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Bodies fell from the sky like stars that had lost their grip on the galaxy.
Only joined can the curses be undone Only after one of six has won, When the original offense Has been committed again And a ruling line has come to an end Only then can history amend.
Every hundred years, rulers returned to Lightlark, desperate to break the curses. Every hundred years, they failed.
You take the pain like medicine, Terra had said in response to her tears. You swallow it down with a smile.
So, when his sword struck, her own went flying across the stadium. Cheers erupted, not only Sunlings, but every Lightlark realm getting to their feet. Honoring their king. But he only watched Isla, eyes narrowing. He knew. Somehow, he knew she had let him win.
“And I don’t know what I enjoy more. Replaying the image of my sword against your throat . . . or thinking about how your heart might look on my plate.”
Some would say the decision wasn’t fair, but neither was the game.
The only way not to fear death is to meet it.
Sometimes, she would answer it. Confide in it. Trapped in her orb of fogged glass, she spoke her thoughts to the wind.
The untrusting king, the paranoid ruler who always thought everyone was after his power.
You are a rose with thorns, she said. A pretty thing capable of protecting itself.
The Centennial was a deadly game with many players. And grave consequences.
He grinned. With a fluid motion, he dug out her dagger and threw it back at her. She caught it without her gaze ever leaving his.
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I have had the thorough displeasure of being in your presence for far too long.
“The king has ordered the library to be closed this week. You will be alone and are to have full access to any of the floors.”
He looked at her like she was the thing they had torn apart the island for, the heart he had been desperately trying to find all these years, the needle that had finally threaded him together.
That was the moment I knew I loved you, he had said. When that arrow went through your heart, and it might as well have gone through mine.
